


The Scarring

by EarthBorn93



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Darkspawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 04:03:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20521649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthBorn93/pseuds/EarthBorn93
Summary: Qwerai Mahariel hunts down a group of darkspawn.





	The Scarring

**The Scarring**

**Ferelden, 9:35 Dragon**

It was a cold morning, Qwerais breath misting in the air. It was early winter, fresh snow covering the frozen ground, making for treacherous walking. The world was utterly silent, bordering on the eerie. On a more ordinary day she might have taken time to take in and enjoy the view. As it was, today was far from ordinary: today was a day of hunting, and not merely simple beasts, but far more dangerous creatures.

Roughly three days ago she had been surveying the ruins of a burnt down farmstead, urging the few surviving family members, who had survived only by the grace of having been visiting their neighbors at the time, to keep the younger children back as she studied the scene of carnage. The culprits were easy enough to identify, as few other beings of the world would bother with such sadistic brutalities: darkspawn, the old enemy. Having ascertained the trail to follow, Qwerai set out in pursuit of the creatures as was her duty, telling the farmers only what she was doing and to expect her return when they next saw her. She was alone, passing through the area by chance, but there was no time to alert other wardens. If she waited, the darkspawn would surely disappear into the wilderness. Furthermore, given how few her order still numbered, she was not even certain that any other wardens would be there to answer her summons. This hunt belonged to her alone, and it would happen now or never.

Qwerai was wearing a simple shirt and trousers, sturdy fereldan leather boots, gloves that left fingers exposed for increased mobility, and a belt whose round buckle was stamped with the griffon insignia, one of the few outward signs of her role as a grey warden. Under her clothes she had two necklaces, one was the heirloom necklace her mother had left her, the other the grey warden pendant given to her after her joining. On the middle finger of her right hand she had the wooden ring her clan’s keeper had given to her all those many years ago. Her armor was very light: a leather cuirass as well as bracers and leg guards made of ironbark; a gift from her clan from the previous year. She wore no helmet, having always found such things to be a hindrance with her way of fighting. Over all this she was wearing a heavy, hooded traveler’s cloak to ward off the cold. As her weapons she had a longbow and a quiver full of arrows slung across her back, as well as a curved knife of dalish make she kept on her belt. Aside from her weapons she carried only a small backpack that contained the barest essentials she needed. Everything else she had left near the farmstead to retrieve later. 

She followed the trail left by the darkspawn as quickly as she could while conserving her strength, alternating between a quick walk and a jogging run as the terrain allowed. She kept moving as much as possible, eating on the move and stopping to sleep for a few hours only when she absolutely had to. The signs of the darkspawn’s passage were easy enough to follow, even a non – grey warden with little tracking skills could have done it: snow disturbed by several clawed feet, discarded equipment of crude make, sections of wood missing from trees that had been more gnawed rather than cut off, remnants of extinguished campfires, the occasional slaughtered wildlife. If one stopped to brush away the thin layer of snow, many of the plants still visible through the ice appeared sickly, covered in a layer of black, soot – like substance that sticked to fingers, the legacy of the taint carried by the darkspawn. The darkspawn were certainly not subtle. Once Qwerai even found the shredded body of a dead genlock, the result of some argument within the darkspawn band. She smiled grimly at the sight. “One less for me to deal with” she thought to herself. She was closing in on her prey, she was sure of it, and judging from the tracks it appeared that the monsters fortunately did not yet know they were being tracked. Still, it was necessary to hurry. Each day that passed increased the chance of the darkspawn finding a deep roads entrance and disappearing underground. If that happened, her mission would have failed. There was no way she could chase the darkspawn to the deep roads alone. Even if this risk would not exist, no person could keep up the pace that she was maintaining forever, and it would not do to reach the darkspawn without the strength to fight them.

Qwerai was making her way through the wintry forest when she sensed something. The space around her seemed to shift imperceptibly, and she could feel a presence of minds not her own. She heard indistinct murmuring, not with her ears, but echoing within her own mind. Her quarry was now close, close enough to be picked up by her grey warden senses. Her body tensed, ready for combat. She removed her backpack, took her bow into her hand and undid the clasp that held her cloak in place, allowing it to fall off her shoulders. Then she set off in a low crouch, moving in the direction her senses told her enemy would be found.

In a forest clearing beside a small pond she found them. The ‘spawn had killed themselves a moose and were busily devouring it, tearing flesh and guts out with their bare hands. A quick glance told Qwerai that the darkspawn numbered well over twenty creatures, a mixture of hurlocks and genlocks, no emissaries as far as she could tell. This promised to be a difficult fight. As she watched, a particularly large helmeted hurlock carrying a massive two handed sword, probably the alpha of this pack, suddenly let out an angry roar an hit another hurlock with a wild swing, sending blood and sharp fangs flying in the cold air. As her hand went to her quiver, searching for a specific arrow, an unwelcome knot of nervousness settled in her stomach. She only had a few moments. The presence of so many of their own kind and the excitement over their kill had delayed her detection for the moment, but the creatures could sense her as surely as she could sense _them. _It was a matter of when, not if. Finally her searching hand found an arrow with a small flat metal ring around the haft near the feathers. As she nocked this arrow into place she could see one of the darkspawn with its back turned to her pause it’s gorging, head turning left and right as the monster began to sense that something was wrong. Qwerai drew her bow, aiming down the length of the arrow, targeting the back of the alerted darkspawn. The darkspawn sniffed the air and began to stand up. She loosed the arrow, watching it fly through the air as time seemed to slow. A hit. The darkspawn looked down upon the arrow tip now bursting through its chest, dumbstruck, then turned with a snarl full of anger and surprise in equal measure. The arrow then lit up with a blinding white light as the magic inside it went to work. Qwerai never saw this happen; she was already taking cover behind a tree, covering her eyes with her arm.

The sound of an explosion rang in her ears. A wall of hot air rushed past her and she could hear many objects hitting the tree she was taking cover behind. It became quiet and she stepped out of her hiding place. The darkspawn she had shot was gone, only a blackened smear remained. There was a light fog of smoke in the air, nearby trees were covered in white hot glowing metal fragments and small flames licked the tree trunks here and there. Many of the ‘spawn were dead, sprawled all over, shredded by the same fragments as in the trees. A few alive creatures still remained, hissing and growling as they charged toward her. Qwerai pulled another arrow from her quiver. The scattershot had done its job, to use it again would not be of much use, they were too far apart. At this range it might also be dangerous. Now was the time for more conventional archery.

She loosed another arrow to the “twang” of her bow. Twang! A genlock fell over hard, shot through the chest. Twang! A hurlock stopped in tracks, its roar interrupted by the arrow now stuck in its mouth. Twang! A genlock trying to return her fire with a bow of its own was struck through the shoulder by an arrow that passed through the length of its body, coming out through the opposite shoulder. The darkspawn fell over stiffly, shoulders locked in place by the arrow, its own arrow flying astray. Twang! Yet another genlock was felled, shot through the stomach. Twang! Another hit to a stomach, this time a hurlock that was slowed but not killed. Twang! The same darkspawn got another arrow through the throat, dying in turn. Twang! A hurlock that almost reached her was crippled as it was struck in the thigh just above the knee. Qwerai then loosed one last arrow, shooting the crippled darkspawn between the eyes, then focused on another hurlock charging toward her, swinging a mace above its head. She delivered a swift hit with her bow between the creature’s legs, and as the monster reeled form that blow, she spun her bow in a wide ark, smashing the creature on the side of its head, toppling it sideways. Another darkspawn moved to attack her. This one she struck with one end of her bow to the back of the knee, driving the creature down to its knees, then hit the creature above its teeth with the opposite end. It too fell over in short order. A bow used like a combat staff was useful for disorienting, for disabling, not so much for killing, so she dropped it and drew her knife, stabbing the first darkspawn through the eye as it tried to clamber to its feet, then turned to place her knife between the shoulder blades of the second darkspawn.

Qwerai worked through the remaining darkspawn with methodical precision, striking with the speed of a snake: stabbing through joints in the armor and through eye slits of helmets, slashing open throats and arteries, cutting tendons. The poor craftsmanship of the darkspawn armor worked against them in the battle; there were many openings Qwerai could take advantage of. When the creatures tried to strike her in return she either dodged their blows or redirected their blows away from her with her knife, as her training had taught her not to try to block blows directly when fighting with her knife.

As a darkspawn with a sword and a shield tried to strike at her, she drove the knife she was holding in a reversed grip below the shoulder of the creature’s sword arm. Then, using both her hands for added strength she pulled the knife down, opening the darkspawn’s arm from shoulder to wrist. The darkspawn’s sword fell off the creature’s hand. Qwerai caught it in mid – air and swung it at its previous owner’s neck. The creatures head was parted from its shoulders, free to roll across the ground. The sword was a jagged, blunt hunk of metal, miserably badly balanced, but it still was enough for her immediate needs. She blocked a blow toward her head with the sword and stabbed her attacker with her knife first in the armpit, then to the neck. Then she ducked under the next darkspawn’s blow, slashing the creature in the flank as she did. This attack the she followed up with a diaconal cut with the sword across the monster’s back, carving a deep wound from the right shoulder to the left side of the hip. As the darkspawn fell down dead, Qwerai looked around herself, seeking fresh targets, weapons at the ready. There were none to be found. The battle was over, she had won.

Outwardly, Qwerai remained as calm and composed as she always was. Inwardly she smiled, pleased with herself: the fight had gone well, far better than she had hoped, she did not have a scratch on her. She cleaned her knife, sheathed it, and went to retrieve her bow. She then set about to retrieve the arrows that still were salvageable. As she was working loose an arrow stuck to the chest of one of the darkspawn she had felled, a realization dawned on her, a realization that turned her blood to ice. The big darkspawn, the alpha with the two handed sword she had spotted earlier, it was not among the dead ‘spawn! Also she now realized what she had not noticed earlier, that the feeling of nearby darkspawn had not subsided as it should have, meaning the creature was still about. She had time to stand up, bow back in hand, time enough to turn her head to look around, time enough see a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. Then pain enveloped her as she was cut, her scream ringing out in the cold air.

She staggered backwards, clutching her face with her free hand, blood flowing between her fingers, the other desperately holding on to her bow. Her eyes blurred, she barely deflected the alpha’s next attack. Gathering her senses, she brought her bow around, the blow connecting with the darkspawn’s helmet, sending it flying. She had hoped to press her momentary advantage, but the alpha recovered its position faster than she had expected. It swung a low blow, catching her bow, breaking it apart. She dropped the useless pieces from her hand and grabbed her knife once more. Before she could use it the alpha raised its blade high to strike down with overwhelming force, too strong for her knife to block. She should have tried to doge, but her pain and the sudden speed of the attack caused her to panic. In a hasty response she raised her knife arm to block the blow, cursing her mistake in her mind even as she did, too late to undo her move.

It should have been the end of it. A blow like that, incorrectly countered, should have killed her. But the blow that should have cut off her arm and bury the sword deep in her body instead split her bracer in half and cut a deep wound to her knife arm, straight to the bone. A long pained wail escaped her lips as the sword’s edge pressed down on her arm, sliding in the wound. Then the creature swung at her again, this time a horizontal sweep aimed at her head, Dread Wolf take the creatures speed! This time she remembered to duck, and the blade whooshed over her head burying itself deep in a nearby tree. The darkspawn tried to pull its blade loose, once, before she barreled into the creature, pushing it away from the blade, but failing to topple the creature as she had intended. With a roar of triumph she stabbed the monster in the hip, then tried to follow this up with a stab in the space between the creatures neck and shoulder. But as she tried to do this the creature grabbed her wrist, a finger digging to the wound in her arm, causing her to groan through clenched teeth. A fist hit her, breaking the skin on her cheek, then a knee to the stomach pushed the air out of her lungs. Next the monster shifted its grip on her arm, smashing her own fist against her face. She very nearly ended up cutting herself with her own knife. The impact sent her knife flying from her grasp, then a double fisted punch to the gut hurled her a short distance to crash back first against another tree. As she hit the tree she could feel a rib cracking with a sickening crunch.

With no weapon to fight with, Qwerai was in trouble, and she knew it. She scrambled backwards, away from the alpha, eyes darting around frantically, searching for something, anything, to use. She spotted her knife sticking from the snow nearby, and she tried to lunge for it, but her feet slipped on a smooth layer of ice under the snow, and she landed short. Before she could get up, an armored foot landed on the center of her back, pinning her to the ground, and then a clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, turning her over. The darkspawn alpha loomed over her, grasping her by her ears and slamming her head against the cold frozen ground. Stars danced in her eyes from the impact, and she could taste blood in her mouth. She punched the hurlock with her uninjured hand, but the beast merely grunted in response and smashed her head on the ground again, causing her nearly to black out. One more hit and her skull would split open, brains free to spill across the ground. Suddenly her arm brushed against the handle of an object on lying on the ground. Without stopping to think, she grabbed hold of the handle and swung at the twisted face above her. The darkspawn roared, releasing its hold on her ears, and she pushed the creature away from her with a kick. She stood back up and charged at the creature, pushing the still disoriented darkspawn to the ground, landing on top of it, their positions reversed. She brought the object in her hands crashing down hitting the darkspawn on the head. A flailing hand tried to reach for her and she batted it aside with her weapon, bone splintering, the darkspawn screaming with pain. She struck down with the object again, something breaking under the force of the impact, sizzling blood that felt burning against the skin spraying on her face. Again and again she pummeled at the darkspawn`s head, screaming a wordless scream of rage on the top of her lungs, all sense of finesse and tactics forgotten.

She was not sure exactly how long she kept that up. When she was done the darkspawn` s head was a mushy ruin, her voice was hoarse and her arms were up to her elbows covered in the creatures blood. With the battle finally over, she took a proper look at the object she had in her hands for the first time: a darkspawn mace. Absently she realized it had belonged to the first darkspawn she had killed with her knife during the battle, the mace somehow ending where she needed. She chuckled at the sheer coincidence and her current situation. It was the creator’s own luck that she was still alive, assuming her trashed state still qualified. Her smile turned to a grimace as the expression caused the pain from the cut on her face to flare up. She began to feel the cold on her sweat soaked body, starting to shiver visibly. She stood up, took a step, but the combined effect of her injuries, her tiredness, blood loss, the rising headache from the beating her head had received, not to mention the shock from the near death experience was too much. She slumped to her knees and a retch forced its way up her throat. It had been some time since she had eaten last, and only yellow sap came out. She spent a long time just sitting there on her knees, eyes closed, breathing in and out, counting each breath, focusing her mind on trying to calm down. Afterward she took a moment to examine the wound on her arm. The fingers on her hand were stiff but still moved despite the depth and raggedness of the wound. “Good, that’s at least something” she thought to herself. “Thank you master Ilen, it seems your mastery of the ancient crafts saved me today” she spoke to herself quietly, realizing what would have happened had she worn lesser armor.

After cleaning her arms from darkspawn blood with snow, taking care not to get any snow on her arm wound, she stood up on shaky legs and walked to where she had left her backpack. She pulled out a wooden case where she kept her medical supplies, then returned to the pond near the clearing, breaking away the thin layer of ice and then waiting for the water to still to get a better look at he wound on her face. The darkspawn alpha’s sword had traced a long, almost vertical cut, beginning from her forehead, travelling down between her nose and the inner corner of her left eye, finally coming to a stop on her left cheek. The entire left side of her face was covered in half dried blood. Had the sword struck any more to the left, she could have lost an eye. On the other hand, had she not turned her head when she did, the blow could have split her head in half instead. The wound would have to be cleaned, otherwise she risked an infection, and would certainly leave a scar in any event. The same could be said of the wound on her arm. Briefly she considered the water before her. It seemed clean enough: clear and with little particular signs of stagnation, it would do. She washed her face and the wound, each splash of water feeling like molten steel. Bloody water dripped back into the pool, staining the water pink. Then she broke open a sealed box taken from the wooden case containing a yellow – grey powder. She mixed some of the powder with water on her hand creating a waxy salve. With two fingers she spread this salve along her facial wound, ignoring the abominable itching that began almost immediately as best she could. She finished her work by wrapping linen bandages around her head, fixing the dressing in place as well as possible.

After treating her remaining wounds in similar fashion she went to retrieve her weapons. She stared at the broken halves of her bow morosely. This bow had been a constant companion over many years, seeing her through the blight and beyond. She had rained arrows at the black hide of the archdemon itself with this weapon. And now it was broken, lost to this battle. After a moments consideration she took the pieces with her. While the bow could not be repaired, it still held some sentimental value to her. She decided not to collect her arrows after all. There was no point without her bow, and she was not exactly on the mood to do that anyway. Finally she collected her backpack and her cloak, wrapping the cloak tightly around her, grateful for the warmth, and set off on the long return journey, clutching her side as her broken rib saw fit to remind her of itself.

It had taken her three days to hunt down the darkspawn. It took her more than four to get back. In part it was her injuries slowing her down, but she also deliberately travelled at a more relaxed pace. She travelled in brooding silence, dwelling on the events of the battle, the dull ache of her injuries shortening her temper. Had she been travelling with anyone, she would have certainly been miserable company. Finally she saw the ruins of the burned down farmstead again. A lot had happened since she last saw the place. The survivors had set up a small tent camp, buried the bodies and had even begun to clear away the rubble. Stopping to pick up her remaining gear that she had stashed nearby, she approached the camp. “It’s done. The ‘spawn are dead” she said to one of the older survivors that came to meet her, a human boy just old enough to shave. In reply the boy spilled a seemingly endless stream of words:

”My lady, please forgive us, you were gone for such a long time, we weren’t sure you would be coming back. I… am afraid that that we have nothing to give you in return, I hope you can understand. We… dear Maker, you’re hurt! Uh, will you need help with that, we could try…?

“I am alive” she interrupted politely, masking a momentary irritation that tried to surface itself, holding up her hand to block further questions. “That said, should you know of a good healer, it would not go amiss. I did what I could on my own but I would still prefer that a professional looked things over, to be sure.”

“Oh. Ah, yes, all right, I know of someone. It’s not far, if my lady would just follow me, please”. The boy said nervously, waving for her to follow.

As they walked, the boy talked again, more quietly: “My lady… thank you. Thank you for killing these things. It won’t bring our family back, but at least they’re avenged. And it’s good to know no one else will be in danger, of course. And… I’m sorry you got you hurt because us, fighting for us I mean.

Taking a moment to consider her next words, Qwerai shook her head and said: “Hunting these creatures is what I am for, my purpose in this life. I would have pursued them regardless circumstances, so what happened to me was not your fault, or indeed the fault of anyone else but myself. As for the killing of these darkspawn, you’re welcome, for what it’s worth. I was glad to help, even if I could not do more.” Then a slight smile lit up her face, first time in days, and clearing her throat she added: “By the way, there is no actual need to call me *my lady*. While dalish, I am not of any noble blood, and the title does sound very odd to my ears.” 


End file.
